


breathe me in (i'll kill you)

by skitty_titty



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Addiction, Character Study, Gen, Immortality, Major Character Undeath, One Shot, Smoking, Suicidal Tendencies, lapslock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 14:39:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16662751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skitty_titty/pseuds/skitty_titty
Summary: addiction is terrible.addiction is worse when you want to die.





	breathe me in (i'll kill you)

**Author's Note:**

> based on this [piece of artwork](http://0dinkyicarus.tumblr.com/post/170689501276/20180209-doodle) by [0dinkyicarus](http://0dinkyicarus.tumblr.com/)

cor strives to be healthy.

he strives to be good at everything (and to be  _ especially _ good in anything drautos is interested in, because he’s a petty bitch). when he wakes up, the only way he still manages to force himself out of bed — other than pure habit; other than the block in his mind, refusing for him to break routine — is so he can do his job, and do it well.

he’s no stranger to loss. at fifteen, he’d already thrown his life away to a king that would fall with no way to prevent it. in return for his sacrifice, he’s given back the gift he’d so eagerly discarded. it seems like such a blessing, wrapped in rich silk as a long, flowing ribbon, but tearing it to shreds to find what’s on the inside is a taste bitterer than rotten milk.

‘cor the immortal’ is what they call him, almost a chant or a song of praise, as they worship his very name. enemies quake in their metaphorical boots when his face is pictured on the battlefield, a flash of a screenshot because, after a blink, he’s gone again. trainees whisper excitedly as he steps into the room for their first lesson. their admiration slowly melts away into something angrier, and then into something more resigned. sometimes, at the end of everything, it’ll finally turn back into respect.

but cor is immortal. no longer do the stares bother him, nor does any attention; negative or positive. before he can die — which is weird for a once-mortal-not-anymore to think about, after not thinking for so long — he has to outlive the line of kings. has to bring them to their throne, watching as they surrender up their lives on fate’s cruel, twisting blade.

cor strives to be healthy; cor is immortal. somewhere along the line, it starts to go downhill.

it doesn’t move dramatically. he doesn’t take to alcohol every night because, with it, he can’t sleep, nor does he overwork away his sorrows into a training dummy.

it starts with a cigarette. only one, and it’s nice, as he stands on his balcony, watching insomnia fall asleep. it won’t kill him, he thinks, as the smoke chokes him, winding around his throat and lungs. it won’t kill me, he thinks, as the cigarette burns down to its stump. he drops it in surprise; he hadn’t expected it to melt away so fast. after staring at it for a few seconds, registering what he had done, he steps on it. afterwards, he throws the packet away. he throws it away but he can’t forget the feeling.  
  


 

* * *

 

it’s years later now. his beard has grown in full but now his face has aged enough that it looks natural, rather than scruffy. underneath the bright lights of leide’s hunter HQ, his hair shines a dull brown, or grey, if you look at it close enough. eyes that were once full of life — ever so long ago now — are more barren than the wasteland he resides in.

there’s a newspaper in his hands. the only reason it is not on the floor is that he’s sat at a table; when he dropped the paper, it had somewhere to land.

INSOMNIA IN RUIN, it reads. 

below it, details swim off the page. even if he knew this was going to happen, had accepted it long ago, it’s so much worse to see it written in paper. yet again, he has failed his duty to protect the king. yet again, he has failed the only thing his life is worth.

there’s one prince left, now. not even a king yet.

just a few more years, of nurturing and care and  _ pain _ that none can prevent.

cor wonders whether he’s cut out for the immortal life, after all.

 

* * *

 

the day has been tough. he shouldn’t say that really, when every day is hard and this is nothing out of the blue. today, the exhaustion settles deep in his bones, though he feels that he should be perfectly content as he sits by the campfire.

across from him, noctis slouches in his chair. he seems like he’s out of focus, staring off into the fire as it swirls through the air, leaving small sparks to float away on their own. distant sounds from ignis cooking, the food sizzling in the hot pan, and from prompto and gladiolus ring in the air as they put up a tent, prompto giving an occasional cuss when he fits his fingers, and gladiolus laughing in return.

everything is so peaceful there, despite the daemons prowling behind the trees. the carefree atmosphere the boys make is bulletproof, as they laugh through their usual nightly routine. it remains that way until noctis drags prompto off to bed. though only a couple of years younger, it’s clear that ignis and gladiolus view them as the children to be protected, even if both know it won’t last long.

“what’s the plan, then?” gladiolus says. the shadow’s on his face make him look much older than he really is, exaggerating the lines on his mouth and forehead and the scar across his eye. “we need to get through the empire’s blockade, without overly risking noct.”

“we should-” he pauses to think, but not for too long- “split into two groups. you and ignis, with prompto, will follow monica in the diversionary effort. i will take noctis and assure his safety.”

gladiolus looks as if he’s going to complain — being the king’s shield means never being apart, but noctis is only the prince and cor was made to die for the crown, if he could — but ignis gently nudges him with his foot under the table, where cor can’t see, and forces him to agree.

“i shouldn’t keep you two out here too long.” cor adds, when the conversation is finished and neither seem to move. “you need your rest.”

“as do you, marshall.” ignis says.

“don’t worry about me.” cor says, as if he’s slept a full nights sleep in years. he lives off two hours and a few naps; another day without rest won’t change anything, would barely make a dint on the dark circles that permanently reside under his eyes. “you sleep and i’ll keep watch. just in case.”

“just in case.” gladiolus echoes. he looks grateful. “come on, iggy. you heard him. we’ll be fine if you get some shut eye.”

“if you say so.”

and with that, the final two disappear inside.

he looks out at the night and finds there nothing to be seen. mourning was never something cor had really thought about before; typically, drowning himself in his work tends to get the job done. if he buries it deep enough, he’ll never have to look at it again, after all.

but now, out in the open, alone, it’s hard not to consider everything he could have done differently. hard not to think how it should have been him, because he would have just come back again. hard not to think how his life is now useless, if it can be reused over and over with no cost to anybody but his sanity.

he fingers itch around the packet in his pocket. the smell of smoke would awaken most, if not everyone, who reside in the tent beside him, so he doesn’t, but wanting too is enough. he’s addicted, in over his head. he’s not supposed to be out of control and, yet, he finds that it’s kind of nice.

nice to be able to depend on something else, for once, because that something can’t die.

 

* * *

 

taking down guards in a single swing, as the prince flashes blue beside him, makes cor feel alive for the first time in a while.

for a long minute, as the price smiles up at him from across the fenced-off, half destroyed building, he feels something he’d be scared to call hope.

after that, everything goes downhill.

you know the story. you’ve seen it written a thousand times. it gets worse before it gets better. a close encounter with death leaves everything to be rebuilt, better and stronger.

an encounter with death, here, is worth nothing. rebuilding is out of the question, when death is what he longs for. if only it were permanent.

 

* * *

 

the next time he smokes is when the world is plunged into darkness.

everyone is dead now. whether it’s after the funeral — not even buried, because like hell they could afford the time or resources for that — or they’re moving as shells of the people they once were, swinging their weapons and shooting their guns, desperate to live another day. no one is sure why they’re still moving, replaying the repetitive routine that only changes once in a blue moon, when a fight leaves them with a new souvenir. 

so he smokes, no one there to chide him for it. if he hears the daemon crawl up behind him, he doesn’t show it; just continues staring out at the sea, a brief moment’s peace as the moonlight reflects down on it, shimmering. the moon doesn't even move anymore, as if it’s stuck in time. sometimes it feels as if that’s true because nothing is going anywhere, nothing is changing.

the daemons tear his limbs apart. drag him away, ripping his rough skin. stab in his back, stab in his heart; stab stab stab and the pain doesn’t go away. only when they finish with his body do they move up to his head, still staring off into the distance, uncaring, that he starts to fade away.

when he next opens his eyes, everything is sewn back together. if he sighs, grabs another cigarette, lights it and throws the lighter down next to him. smoking doesn’t really help but it feels like it’s supposed to be a temporary fix, feels like it’s  _ supposed _ to help; that’s about all the comfort anyone can get nowadays.

all the kings he’s lived under have died. the only question left is,  _ when will it finally come for him? _

**Author's Note:**

> pinterest: [ignis](https://www.pinterest.co.uk/hokseok/ignis-stupeo-scientia-ffxv/) | [prompto](https://www.pinterest.co.uk/hokseok/prompto-argentum-ffxv/)
> 
>  
> 
>   
> youtube (music playlists): [ffxv](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL_rSVvI_mwOzblAt0IjaLoTNJNZ07ZIZu)  
> 


End file.
